Roidon woke to see the stars; as clear as pinpoints, in blues, yellows and oranges amidst the swathe of the milky way. It was wondrous for a few seconds – untrammelled, pure – until he began to notice the cold, until the memory seeped back. He’d been in the compound, he was shot by that loathsome stun-gun. And then … he was here, in the deadening cold night. Even with all the evidence he’d presented to them about his utter specialness, he was still to be accepted, still to prove he was not some spy, or (and this was more likely to be their thinking) a threat to their leader. He wasn’t even sure he’d actually met the man yet, such was the level of secrecy.
It took a few moments before he realised that the tiny vibration in his head was his comm-link; neurally implanted – deep enough to escape most scans. It was the b’tari Zardino. ‘Can you hear me, and can you respond?’
‘Yes,’ he replied.
‘We need you to return to base. There is a crisis.’
‘What crisis?’ He couldn’t imagine how the b’tari could let things get out of control after all that had happened.
‘Torbin Lyndau has returned. He’s been trying to destroy vital equipment, and says if you do not return he will destroy the base after killing everyone in it.’
He had further questions pressing at his mind, but instead said, ‘I’m on my way.’
He ran as fast as his listless legs would take him for a couple of kilometres – a safe distance from the compound – before calling the car. The airborne vehicle materialised just as it landed a metre in front of him.
At maximum speed the journey back took no longer than five minutes. Roidon had never really trusted zero-inertia systems, but in this instance he made use of it – it kept him conscious during a fifteen gee acceleration. If it wasn’t for the B’taris’ magnificent tech he was sure he’d have abandoned them at the first opportunity. And now, here he was running errands like an apprentice employee who’d just been given some real responsibility … and a true sense of purpose. The Roidon of two centuries ago would have been truly disgusted with the current regeneration.
Inside the base hanger an alarm was sounding. It seemed Torbin had really got to work on his destructive spree.
As soon as the hanger had closed, Zardino bust through, and ran towards the craft. He was carrying some kind of weapon. No sooner did Roidon step out than the b’tari was foisting the weapon on him. ‘I have programmed it to accept your indent,’ Zardino said, slightly breathless, ‘but it can only be used to stun.’ Roidon thought of someone he’d like to use a stun-gun on, but for now he’d have to defer his anger.
‘So Torbin is armed and dangerous. Go figure that!’
‘I wish I could,’ came Zardino’s response. ‘All I can say is: someone has given him a weapon that it is extremely effective, and undetectable.’
‘Can’t you lock him down, contain him in one room?’
‘Too late. He’s in the control room. We thought we could reason with him. We hope that you can.’
‘Your optimism will be your people’s downfall,’ Roidon remarked, following Zardino as the B’tari walked towards the main compound.
Torbin was still in the control room, where he had access to the B’taris’ apparently most advanced equipment. Now Torbin, who’d been entrusted with the various access codes, was attempting to generate another wormhole. The telemetry, displayed in the outside observation room, showed that all the power was ramped up to the max – every systems feed. He was clearly trying to create an overload. But somehow he had circumvented the safety cut-offs.
Roidon watched this act of madness with fascination. Zardino: standing next to him, revealed an uncharacteristic expression of horror. If only briefly, before saying in his usual calm tones: ‘You’ve got to go in there. He wanted to speak to you, after all.’
‘I expect he wants to kill me. Still, perhaps it’s my time to be a hero.’ Zardino looked at him blankly.
Without another word, Roidon shouldered the gun, entered the control room. Torbin, from his hunched position over the controls, swiveled round immediately, glared at Roidon … but then smiled, in an unsurprisingly manic way.
‘I imagine you came here against your better judgement,’ Torbin said.
‘Does that matter to you, Torbin?’
‘What matters is that you are here to witness the destruction of the B’tari base---’
‘With all of us in it?’
‘I guess that’s a problem for you.’ Torbin broke off momentarily from the console desk, gave Roidon a sly look.
‘I can tell you, Torbin, I have died once already, and being dead is no fun. But I can understand the need to die in such intense circumstances. Better than the usual slow decline.’
‘Yes, I know all about your past, Roidon. About who – what you used to be. What you created, what you destroyed.’
‘Someone’s been doing their homework … or been talking to the right aliens. Or the wrong ones, from my perspective. How did your encounter with the Elusivers go, by the way?’ Roidon imagined Torbin had failed in his original quest, and the Elusivers had detained him.
‘They made me realise what truly matters.’
Along with the klaxon, red graphics were flashing all about the place. It was only a matter of minutes – perhaps one, perhaps three – before the lab exploded, taking a hundred square kilometres with it.
‘Better tell me quickly, then, while you can.’
‘It’s simple: the eradication of all sentient life – the purification of the galaxy.’
‘And then what?’
‘And then the experiment will start again. But to be done more carefully.’
‘The trouble with insanity is that you are never aware of it before it’s too late. Unfortunately there isn’t time to make you realise.’ He took the gun off his shoulder, pointed it at Torbin.
Torbin shook his head. ‘If you shoot me it will make no difference. This process is irreversible – I have fused the shut-down circuitry.’
‘Nevertheless---’ Roidon fired the gun, just as Torbin was about to point his thumb-sized weapon in response. Torbin collapsed in an electrically-induced paralysis. Roidon couldn’t help but feel a moment of empathy for the man – being stunned was not at all pleasant.
Zardino burst into the control room. ‘We need to leave. Right now.’ His voice matter-of-fact.
In the hanger, all the base’s B’tari – the human and reptilian-looking – were rushing towards various craft. Roidon instinctively made for the one he had previously used. There were two others already in it, but they didn’t try to reject him, there wasn’t time. An extra seat formed at the back. It was less than comfortable but in the grip of adrenalin he cared only about the basic need to survive.
A large viewscreen had formed, encompassing the front of the craft. It showed the base receding, but he was sure they were travelling forwards and this was a rear view. But there was not the huge explosion he’d been expecting. Instead the hillside imploded, and when it blew outwards everything appeared to be contained within a dome – a containment field. It seemed the B’tari had been prepared for this eventuality.
They continued to ascend until reaching space.
‘What are we headed for?’ Roidon asked the human-looking b’tari in front.
‘The mother ship,’ he answered in perfect English.
***